


Five Songs for Yuri Plisetsky

by Charmsilver



Series: Fives [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5 Things, Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Established Relationship, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Music, Skype, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 20:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11066505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmsilver/pseuds/Charmsilver
Summary: In which Otabek picks Yuri's programme music.





	Five Songs for Yuri Plisetsky

**Author's Note:**

> I finally finished this!

The Skype call connects at the last second and the screen widens, presenting Otabek with a pixelated image of Yuri’s face. He hears a muffled _Fuck_ and suddenly the image jerks and Yuri’s face is a lot closer, bent over the keyboard as he clicks madly. Yuri looks up and opens his mouth to say something and –

The call disconnects with a _blip_.

“Damn,” Otabek says under his breath. He watches as the little chat bubble appears beside Yuri’s name.

_Fuck. Sorry. The internet here is so shit._

Otabek grimaces as he writes back.

_It’s ok. Try again when you get home?_

_yeah._

Yuri signs off and Otabek sits back in his chair, sighing. Yuri’s at some airport in Europe waiting for his connecting flight to St Petersburg after spending a week in Hatsesu with Victor and Katsuki. They’ve barely spoken since he arrived in Japan because Victor insisted on spending every waking minute sightseeing. Otabek had been looking forward to this video call, but free airport internet is just as useless as ever, apparently.

Before he shuts his laptop lid, Otabek sends Yuri a message on WhatsApp with an mp3 file attached.

_Listen to[this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0DTLcR5awn0) on the plane. Tell me what you think when you land._

_Have a good flight, Yura._

After a minute or two, Otabek’s phone pings with a reply:

_what is it?_

Rolling his eyes, Otabek types back a response.

_Just listen and tell me what you think. I’m going to bed now. Goodnight._

Otabek laughs as Yuri sends a slew of indignant text messages in quick succession ( _beka. come on. are you really going to bed? Just tell me what it’s for. fuck you otabek altin… have nice dreams_ ) and puts his phone on silent.

***

In the morning there’s a message waiting from Yuri:

_Skype me loser_

Otabek rolls out of bed, runs his fingers through his hair, brushes his teeth, throws a t-shirt on, and presses the call button on Skype.

Yuri picks up after a couple of rings. He looks tired and his hair is a mess, and he’s practically drowning in one of Otabek’s hoodies, which he’d managed to steal without Otabek noticing.

“Have you slept?” Otabek asks as Yuri’s dour expression morphs into a grin. Like always, the sudden overwhelming feeling that Otabek makes him smile like that turns his world inside out for a second.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “No, I just got back. Wanted to see you.”

Otabek smiles at that. “How was the flight?”

“Boring as Hell.” Yuri combs his fingers through his hair distractedly. “I listened to that song. What’s it for?”

“Did you like it?”

Yuri eyes his suspiciously but nods. “Yeah. It’s good.”

“Would you skate to it?”

“What?” Yuri’s gaze snaps to Otabek, his face frozen in an expression of surprise. “You’re joking?”

“No,” Otabek says simply. “Would you?”

“Would I?” Yuri blinks. “You still want to choose my programme music?”

Otabek frowns. “Of course. I said I would, didn’t I?”

Yuri doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I thought you’d forgotten.”

“Not everyone is as forgetful as Victor,” Otabek reminds him, earning him a scowl.

“But you never mentioned it – not when I was in Almaty, not since then – have you been thinking about it this whole time?” Yuri sounds genuinely shocked.

A little affronted, Otabek nods. “Yes. I’ve got a few songs picked out.”

“A few?” Yuri leans forward. “What are the others?”

But Otabek doesn’t want to spoil all the surprises just yet. “I’ll give you a new one each week, that way you can get a feel for each one before you hear the next.” He ignores Yuri’s spluttering protests. “So think about the one I sent yesterday, you could do some choreography if you wanted.”

Yuri shakes his head. “Beka, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but Lilia would never let me skate to that song.”

“Just think about it. Forget about Lilia. Anyway, when you decide which songs you want, I’ll mix them for you. We can take out the swears, change them up to suit you.”

“Wow,” Yuri says, but he’s grinning now, colour returning to his face. “Okay. But I have high expectations,” Yuri warns.

Otabek shrugs. “I think you’ll find I know you quite well, Yuri Plisetsky.”

***

Yuri sends him a video message three days later. The thumbnail shows Yuri’s home rink, Yuri in the centre mid-spin. There’s no caption. Otabek opens it curiously.

The music starts from the chorus and Yuri’s already moving, using the powerful drumbeat to propel him into highspeed spins, then a quadruple Salchow. His movements flow, but they’re sharp and fast, almost violent as he jabs his arms and legs into the air. It looks good. Really good. Yuri is a fucking marvel.

Grinning, Otabek texts back a response.

_Looking good._

_It’s fucking exhausting_ , is Yuri’s response. _Beat’s too fast. can we slow it down in places?_

 _If you don’t think you can handle it._ Otabek can’t help but tease Yuri.

_fuck you Altin._

Chuckling, Otabek writes: _Yeah we can slow it down. It’s probably better for an SP anyway._

 _It’s a bit of a fuck you though isn’t it?_ Yuri asks.

 _Hm._ Otabek considers his response but decides to go with the truth. _Actually I was thinking about you and JJ when I picked it._

 _HAH._ The chat bubble goes still for a second. _I like it but I kinda feel like an asshole skating to it._

Otabek nods to himself, unsurprised. Yuri’s not afraid to say what he means, but when he skates he’s a lot subtler, preferring to blow everybody away with his skill and magnificence; if there’s a message to see it’ll be between the lines, only there for the people who are seeking it.

 _Ok,_ he responds. _Luckily there are 4 more songs to choose from._

 _Gimme,_ Yuri begs.

Otabek grins again. _Patience, tiger._

_ugh._

***

True to his word, Otabek sends the next song a week after the first. It’s a modern instrumental [piece](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GwES9M0isVM) and admittedly Otabek isn’t sure that Yuri will like it. It’s heavy on violin and electric guitar with a Celtic feel, completely unlike the songs he usually picks, but it’s just raucous enough that it could work.

A couple of hours later Yuri Skypes him, his face giving nothing away when Otabek answers the call.

“Well?” Otabek asks, and finds he wants to laugh because he’s actually a little nervous.

Yuri inclines his head to the side. He looks thoughtful. At length he says, “I can see it.”

Otabek blinks, momentarily confused. “See it?”

“The moves,” Yuri confirms. “It could definitely work.”

“But do you like it?” Otabek asks, because that’s the whole point.

At this Yuri refocuses his gaze onto Otabek. He tosses his hair behind his shoulders and quirks an eyebrow in a passable imitation of Otabek himself.

Otabek snorts.

“Yes I liked it, you moron.” Yuri rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I thought you’d mess it up.”

“Yes, well. This one is a little different.”

“Different is good. I don’t just want to keep doing the same shit, Beka. That’s why you’re picking my music this year, get it?”

Otabek grins, and Yuri grins back. He feels a little lightheaded, which happens a lot when he talks to Yuri. “Are you going to choreograph something for this?” he asks, before he says something too sentimental.

Yuri nods, that thoughtful look returning to his face. “Yeah, I’ve got some ideas. I’ll send you a video soon.” He touches his braid lightly, pushing a few strands back into place. Then his expression changes and he looks irritated all of a sudden. Scowling, he fiddles with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Beka,” he begins, “I hate this.” He glares at something to the left of his screen. “I want you here.”

Otabek takes in Yuri’s appearance: he’s worn out from practice, wearing comfortable clothes that still manage to show off his muscle definition, and his hair is in slight disarray as if he hadn’t fixed it since he got home. Something tugs at Otabek’s heart and he sighs.

“Me too.”

***

“Otabek!” Yuri practically screams into his receiver. “Have you seen them yet?!”

Otabek winces, holding the phone a few centimetres from his ear. He hadn’t intended to answer Yuri’s call, knowing how irritated it makes his coach when he ducks out during practice, but his phone had been vibrating non-stop for about five minutes and it’s messing with his step sequences.

“Seen what?” he asks, calmly leaning against the side of the rink.

“The assignments!” Yuri’s voice is excited, breathless, and a sudden glow of hope unfurls inside Otabek’s chest.

“Crap,” he says. He glances over at his coach, whose scolding a younger skater; they’ve been practicing all morning so none of them knew the assignments had been released. “I haven’t seem them. One sec.” He opens up his email and finds it sitting there innocuously.

The link takes an age to load, and the PDF even longer, but eventually it does and Otabek scans it quickly, heart beating a little faster than normal.

He’s never cared that much about where he’ll be competing for the Grand Prix series, but this year it matters for a completely different reason:

Yuri.

“Well?” Yuri demands, startling Otabek back into the present. “Did you see?”

“We’ll be at Skate Canada together,” Otabek confirms, a grin spreading across his face.

“I’m going to wipe the floor with you,” Yuri challenges, but his voice is soft, more affectionate than anything else, as if he’s declaring his love for Otabek rather than his intent to knock him off the podium.

“Hm,” Otabek replies, still scanning the rest of the document. “We’ll see.”

“Tch.” Yuri laughs.

They fall into a comfortable silence, until Otabek remembers he’s actually at practice and needs to hammer out his quad toe loop if he’s ever going to be a match for Yuri. “I’ve got to go,” he says regretfully, “but I’m going to send you something. It’s a little early but it doesn’t matter.” He flicks a [music file](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0yFi_EXAC8) through to Yuri, then returns his ear to the phone. “Talk later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yuri huffs on the end of the line. “Bye.”

“Later, Yuri.”

***

 _yes,_ Yuri texts out of the blue, hours later, after Otabek’s already in bed.

_Yes?_

_fuck yes in fact._

_You liked the song then?_

_obviously._

Otabek fumbles for the light switch and sits up in bed, blinking his eyes against the sudden brightness. _It’s a little more subtle than The Offspring,_ Otabek offers.

 _Exactly_ , Yuri agrees.

_Do you want another one?_

_what? what happened to “patience, Yuri”?!_

_The GPF assignments have already been announced… don’t you think you should pick your music pretty soon?_

_yeah. Yakov is livid that I haven’t yet. It’s funny._

Otabek chuckles. _I’ll send you another song tonight. Then the last one tomorrow. How does that sound?_

 _Fine,_ Yuri agrees. _what’s the new one then?_

Otabek opens up the music app on his phone and presses play on the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaVA6sgOpws), listening for a moment until he’s sure it’s a good choice. Satisfied, he flicks the file through to Yuri.

 _I’m going back to bed now,_ Otabek tells him, yawning into his sleeve. _I’ll Skype you tomorrow after practice._

 _have nice dreams,_ Yuri responds. _about me_ , he adds a second later.

Otabek laughs and curls under his blankets again. _;)_ is all he sends in response, his eyes drifting shut almost as soon as his phone goes black.

***

“Okay, I’m ready. Play me the last one.” Yuri’s sitting at his desk, a bowl of soup in one hand and a spoon in the other. He’s just got home from practice but he’d called Otabek almost as soon as he’d got in the door, stopping only to heat something up for dinner.

Otabek allows himself to watch Yuri for a moment; he admires the gentle slope of his shoulder, visible only because he’s wearing some obscenely slouchy t-shirt that looks way too delicious on him. Yuri slurps down some of his soup, and glares pointedly at the screen. “Well?”

Nodding, Otabek presses send on the final [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=abjE9Qx0O60). This one he’s been saving, knowing that Yuri will love it. He taps his finger against the mouse pad and waits as Yuri opens the file, a faint look of curiosity on his face.

A minute passes and Yuri makes no visible signs as to whether he likes it or not. Otabek feels himself growing tense, suddenly doubting his choice – is it too thematic? Too obvious?

But before he can get too far with these thoughts, he sees Yuri drop his bowl onto the desk with a clatter and lean forward, eyes suddenly wide and excited.

“This… is…” he pauses, listening intently to the music. “AMAZING.” He shuts his eyes for a second. “I want to skate to this. Oh, hell yes, this is my free programme.” He flicks his eyes open and seems to stare directly at Otabek. “Beka,” he continues, “you are going to regret giving me this music.”

Somehow, Otabek doesn’t think Yuri’s going to be right about that.

***

It takes a couple of weeks, but eventually Yuri picks his short programme music. He goes with _Dark Doo Wop_ , reasoning that it’s something that will surprise the audience. Plus, he’s already choreographed some moves and it looks incredible: dark and sensual, with Yuri’s trademark elegance.

By then, Otabek’s already booked his plane tickets.

He tells Yuri on the day before he’s due to leave, and Yuri reacts predictably, with a lot of yelling and blushing and uncontrolled grinning. Otabek’s doing that last one too.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow,” Otabek tells him as they’re saying goodbye over Skype.

Yuri nods; he looks flustered but happy, and even blows Otabek a cocky kiss as he’s signing off.

The next day, Yuri meets Otabek at the airport, bundled up in a big winter coat and a fluffy scarf that he’s pretty sure belongs to Victor. As Otabek exits the gate, Yuri tackles him, his warm, padded body a familiar and comforting weight against Otabek’s chest. He pulls away, face flushed, and drags Otabek to the exit, their hands locked together.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here,” he says under his breath as they pile into Victor’s car, who waves cheerily at him and pulls him into an exuberant embrace.

Otabek looks sideways at Yuri, who follows up this statement with a jab at Victor for driving so slowly.

“I couldn’t wait until October,” he explains quietly and matter-of-factly; Yuri looks at him directly, assessing.

Then he pouts and says, “I don’t like surprises.”

“My apologies, then,” Otabek offers, but Yuri pulls Otabek’s hand into his own fingers anyway, gripping tightly while his mouth quirks up into a smile he can’t suppress.

Otabek, mindful of Victor’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, doesn’t kiss Yuri, though he wants nothing more in the world at that moment. He settles for squeezing Yuri’s hand, attempting to convey the deep affection that he feels for the Russian man sitting beside him.

Yuri insists that they go straight to the rink, and although Otabek would really like to shower and maybe take a quick nap first, he can sense that Yuri’s on edge, bouncing his knee up and down and staring resolutely out the window, his fingers twitching in Otabek’s hand. He’s got a plan, that much is clear.

When they arrive, Otabek thanks Victor for the ride while Yuri storms off towards the doors.

“He’s been working on something,” Victor explains, winding a scarf around his neck. “It’s good. He’s really improving at choreographing his own programmes, you know.” A wistful look appears in Victor’s eye. “I remember when I first started to choreograph…”

Sensing that this could turn into a rather long monologue, Otabek points politely towards the entrance. “We’d better get inside,” he says, and Victor agrees, chatting animatedly about ‘his’ Yuuri and their recent trip to Hatsesu. Otabek listens with half an ear, and is a little relieved when Yuri swoops in and drags him away, rolling his eyes at Victor.

“Stand here,” he instructs, letting Otabek go about half way around the rink. “Watch.”

Otabek nods and waits for Yuri to take to the ice. There are a few the skaters around but Yuri’s got about half the rink to himself and he situates himself in the middle of the upper third, just a few metres from Otabek. He starts low, almost at a crouch, frozen in his starting position.

Then somebody switches the music on.

Otabek watches, curious at first, as the first rasping notes of To Glory play over the speakers. Yuri rises slowly, twisting in place, and then the music begins properly and Otabek feels his heart catch in his throat.

Yuri skates as though the music was made for him alone. He catches each note with every movement, his body synchronised with the melody and matching it with his own narrative of somebody rising upwards, striving for success, for recognition. As the final quiet notes hum out over the rink, he slides to a stop, pulls his legs inwards so they are flush together, and lifts his arms to the sky, head tilted back as if to receive a kiss from God.

Otabek stands silent and unmoving, even as Yuri lowers his arms and stares at him. He doesn’t know what to do or say, all he knows is that what he’s just seen was stunning. Exceptional.

Yuri keeps looking at him, his breaths coming fast and a little sweat beading at his brow. He’s expecting something from Otabek, so Otabek tilts his head to the side and crooks his index finger just so, asking Yuri to come to him.

He does, skating over at a measured pace, his cheeks dusted with pink. As he nears, Otabek leans in over the barrier so that Yuri stops right in front of him, leaving just enough room for Otabek to tug at his collar and pull him in for a blistering kiss in front of everyone.

Yuri pulls away first, panting even more than before. He groans and tucks his head into Otabek’s shoulder. “We’re as bad as them,” he says, presumably referring to Victor and Katsuki.

Otabek laughs and grips Yuri’s arms. “I don’t care.” He takes a deep breath. “Yuri, you amaze me.”

He feels Yuri grin into the fabric of his sweater. “It’s good, right?”

Otabek nods. “Good about covers it, yeah,” he agrees, and Yuri thumps him on the shoulder just hard enough to sting.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles, sinking further into Otabek’s embrace. “It’s going to get even better. You sure you don’t regret giving me that music?”

“Quite sure,” Otabek confirms, laughing a little. “Although I am worried now.”

“You better be!” Yuri hugs him tighter then releases him. “Let’s go home,” he says, a huge smile plastered on his face. “I’m making _pelmeni_.”

**Author's Note:**

> It was difficult to pick the right songs for this fic because Yuri and I definitely do not have the same taste in music. Anyway, I did my best!


End file.
